


TOORU PLAYS Bb CLARINET FIGHT ME

by CheetahLeopard2



Series: Gifts and also what I'm doing instead of working on my others [20]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, M/M, Monthly updates, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, they are in 2nd year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheetahLeopard2/pseuds/CheetahLeopard2
Summary: Tooru gets sucked into bandSO IN THIS I’M GOING TO PRETEND THAT MARCHING BAND IS AUGUST-DECEMBER AND VBALL IS JANUARY-JULY AND ALSO THAT SUMMER BREAK IS JUNE JULY AUGUST SO CH 1 IS LATE FEBRUARY/EARLY MARCHON HIATUS FOR MAXIMUM OR 2 MONTHS I'M SORRY





	1. 1- Fate sets up every discovery

**Author's Note:**

> So!! I have been planing this forever and I've been super excited for it! I say monthly updates so that I'll have a chapter beyond the one uploaded finished every time I post! if you would like to beta hmu!

_ Noise- noun-  _ _ irregular fluctuations that accompany a transmitted electrical signal but are not part of it and tend to obscure it. _

 

Noise. The thing that many people take for granted. The thing that rolls time through the universe in clots and bursts and rumbles and is tugged from reluctant lips. Noise. Noise that allows communication. Allows smiles to have meaning and feelings to be cut down.

All it took was one horrible noise to break Tooru’s life. One thing. One barely there  _ crack _ that seemed to echo the shatter of his world although he was the only one who could hear it. One noise.  _ Crack.  _ One tear. _ Crack. _ One horrid obstruction. _ Crack.  _  One obstacle.  _ Crack.  _  The sound of built up tension.  _ Crack _ . One sound that would grate on his ears for minutes bleeding into hours bleeding into hours.  _ Crack.  _ Those hours turn to days into weeks that bleed into months.  _ Crack. _ One torn ACL. That’s all it took.

Noise. Noise that filled that old gym with shouts and screams of agony, short quick breaths trying to stop tears that were already flowing. 

Noise. One that led a silhouette to that gym door, looking for all it’s worth that it would be rusty on its hinges but opens smoothly and silently but for a  _ Bang!  _ An I found you noise.  _ Bang! _ An I caught you noise.  _ Bang! _ A someone-is-here-someone-come-for-you noise.  _ Bang! _ An I’ve-got-you-don’t-be-scared-noise.  _ Bang! _ But it was a bang all the same. And bang is a flinch-someone’s-angry noise. Bang is a run-someone-has-found-you-out noise.

Noise. The sound of a loose scrabble of sneakers on the floor before recognition. The sound of a sharp breath or panic. The sound of a choked sob from the pain of reaction. The stream of  _ Help-me help-me help-me  _ that doesn’t make it through the pain.

Oh and the pain. Pain cannot describe a color. But it can. Sharp stabbing bursts.  _ Red.  _ Constant throbbing, aching.  _ Green.  _ The dull thrum of a wound well-earned.  _ Blue.  _

And the pain right now. Wave after wave of  _ redredredred help me it’s red.  _ And then the feeling of being lifted. 

The feeling of being weightless abut for those painful bursts of feeling in the knees. The shoulders. The all-too-strong pull of gravity tugging your spine and your feet.

And then nothing. Nothing until green is everything.

 

When Tooru wakes up next, to the smell of stale and sterile air. The too-white-too-bright-too-cold monotony of a hospital. A torn ACL is the verdict. He can play again, his knee can work with a brace for years and years still, but only if he doesn’t strain it. He’s sent home with a warning and a forced leave from school.

 Hajime Iwaizumi. 179.3 centimeters and 70.2 kilograms of toned muscle from playing volleyball, tanned skin and dark spiky hair from his parents and forest-green eyes from who knows where. A personality befitting a gruff mother bear and smiles that could light up a room. A somewhat deep voice with an earthy lint and a mature look on life. Somewhat obsessed with Godzilla. A wing spiker, vice-captain, and ace of Seijoh volleyball club. Someone everyone can trust, and who Tooru trusts the most.

Tooru Oikawa, 184.3 centimeters and 72.2 kilograms of toned muscle from his time as a setter, lighter skin from his half-Korean heritage and chocolate brown hair haloing his hair in waves from his mother, eyes that look like silt mixed water with the first rays of sunlight shining through from his father and a wrecked knee in his second year of high school from pushing himself. A narcissist with few people he trusts and even less self-confidence and a genuine smile that was something to look for. A chirpy voice that could drop and make you question everything and a view of the world as wine tasters would judge wine with a whimsical twist and a realists eyes. Obsessed with everything space. Someone everyone likes, and who is close with few.

Best friends since the age of seven, looking out for each other since that day. Two major fights. And unrealized mutual pining since the age of 9. Teammates since the first year of junior high.

And now Hajime rummages through Tooru’s room as he whines.

“But volleyba-” 

“No.” Hajime is firm in his tone, bag almost filled to the brim. He doesn’t even look back from digging through Tooru’s galaxy shirts to reach the volleyball he  _ knows _ is the back of the closet. 

“But Iwa-ch-”

“No. You know our deal. You stayed in the rest of the season and you won’t play again until it starts again third year. Except when you’re invited to. I’m not going to stand by and watch you use this break to ov-”

Hajime hesitates, shoulders shaking with tiny tremors even as Tooru’s stop. Though Hajime hadn’t gotten far, the ‘overwork yourself and permanently wreck your knee,’ the ‘destroy yourself and your future,’ the ‘drive you to the hospital’ was very obvious, hanging heavy in the air between them. “I just can’t. We have twelve weeks of school left Tooru. It’s second year. Don’t fuck yourself up.”

Tooru, as much as he loves volleyball, knows that Hajime is right. And might be, a small. Small. Tiny. Microscopic. Bit… glad. For a chance to rest and laze around and rewatch shitty sci-fi. But an issue still remains, “Iwaaaa-chaaaannn what will I  _ dooooooo _ ?”

Hajime just smiles, recognizing his surrender, “Relax.”

Trying to ignore the flutter of his heart the smile brought, Tooru whines, it’s been so long since he hasn’t had something to distract him. It wouldn’t so much be pent up energy, hopefully, as Tooru knows he can still jog (but no running, sprinting, or going for too long). He could, perhaps, dig through the deepest reaches of Tumblr? His job was online, helping out a friend of his dad who’s an editor, so he doesn’t actually have to leave and just has to get everything done by the end of the deadline. 

By the time Hajime leaves that evening, the question remains unanswered; What to do during his “forced leave”from school?

\---

 

The question is posed again by a bemoaning Tooru as he stretches his upper body across the kitchen counter, directed at his mother.

“You could clean out the attic!” Is her cheery response.

It says a lot about his boredom that Tooru agrees.

 

\---

 

The attic, when he climbs the stairs, is less scary than 7-year-old he and Hajime remember. It’s rather peaceful, actually. Light streams in from the large port stain-glass windows at every corner, in clear patterns as glimmers reflect off every lazily dancing particle of dust floating down to congregate on pile after pile of stuff. It’s peaceful, timeless, almost a liminal space between time and space. The area has a faded effect, every color a pastel or gentle autumn almost colour.

His eyes alighting on the boxes, Tooru sighs. He has a lot of work to do. 

There’s an area in the center that contained just rugs. Stretching his arms in front of him, palms out-turned and fingers interlaced, he begins with those.  Dragging each outside to beat the dust out of and hang to air out

One.

A plain plush dark red carpet, gold tassels hanging off of every edge.

Two.

An intricate design with no real pattern in royal blue against bronze, The edges rimmed in a soothing wave patterns.

Three.

A honey colored close-knit or crocheted rug with black striped all through in, a badger sewn in detail in the center.

Four.

A deep green round rug, striking Tooru as something that belongs in a library. A silver snake with deep blue eyes that bore into the soul coiled content in the center, others slithering and enthralling coils that are impossible to determine where one ended and the other began.

 Five. 

 This one is different, It’s dark blue, almost purple or even black, a silver flute that seems as though it’s reflecting the light gracing it, notes floating up from the end.

Six.

This is similar to the last, and rustic orange background to a bronze shining trumpet.

 Seven.

This one features a black background, a trombone in third position along the entirety.

 Eight.

This one takes his breath away, a wooden black clarinet. (This one he had to take a photo of and look up on his phone) It’s silhouetted by lilac and seemingly senseless swirls of black that fade off into nothing and seem to rise from the paper as smoke rises from a candle.

This one he’ll ask his mom if he can hang in his room as a tapestry. It’s breathtaking bordering the edge of simple. 

Now onto the boxes.

The first is filled with files,  _ Boring. _ He starts a pile in the center where the rugs were, this one to let his mother sort through.

The next is a bunch of hats, and moths. And some dead spiders. And - okay. That’s more than enough for Tooru to set into a “clothes” pile.

 He’s most-way finished with cleaning out the attic when he sees it. A worn, beat up old case. Red leather rimming the edges, a warm honey colour material, probably some sort of wood, and a handle covered in old, hard thick tape not unlike rubber. Electrical tape, probably. It has two keyholes above each latch besides two round metal protrusions. 

And under it connected by a bit of twine, a bag.

Humming slightly to himself, Tooru sets aside the case and bag as things of interest to look at later.

Little did he know how those items would change his life. 

 

\---

 

More papers, more dusting done, more hats, some jewelry, more and more, bit by bit, each pile builds up. Tooru brings the pile for his mother to go through down before he brings down everything he thinks can be donated. At the end of it all, all that remains unaltered in that attic other than the red upholstered couch and the birch window seat is the bag and case. He checks the clock and realizes that only five hours had passed. 

So much for his plan of staying in and having something to occupy him. 

Tooru sighs, looking around. The attic has a nice ambience to it when it’s cleaned up. Cherry floorboards, faded rose walls, sunlight streaming through the window illuminating the dancing dust particles. 

Tooru wouldn’t mind hanging out in here and just reading or studying in that window seat.

With a final glance around, he turns to head downstairs.

At the top of the stairs he hesitates before turning back for the bag and case.

 

\---

Tooru sets the bag and case down in the kitchen entryway before entering.

His mother shoots him a look™ as soon as he enters and grabs a cup.

“Is it  _ all  _ clean?” is her suspicious question, punctuated by the drumming of her long purple fingernails against the table and the dribbling of water.

Tooru fights the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes mom, I dusted and everything.”

Her posture relaxes, her shoulders sinking and a slight sigh escaping her lungs.

“Thanks, Tooru.”

 A slight smile alights Tooru’s lips, which he hides by taking a sip from his glass, “No problem, Okaa-san.”

“Hey, only 9 more days!” His mother tries to see his smile.

“That’s more like 13 counting the weekends Okaa-san.” Tooru points out, swirling his glass and watching the whirlpool form.

Tooru can tell his mom wants to comfort him, so he immediately changes the subject, “I found a case upstairs and I was wondering if you had the key?” He says it with a slight flourish of his hands and at the end of his sentence his inquisitive eyes pin his mother in the spot.

 Eun Oikawa hums and traces meaningless designs on the table with her fingers, “I might. Which case?”

Tooru holds up a finger and takes two strides to the kitchen door, from which he hoists the bag and case onto the kitchen counter to show Eun. 

Eun immediately begins laughing, “Tooru this is so old! There’s no key.” 

Tooru feels oddly disappointed and cheated until Eun lifts her hands to the odd round protrusions and slides each outwards until a small click is heard. 

The case opens and inside is a disassembled Bb clarinet.

It’s beautiful. Black stained wood, silver rings where each part connects except for the center, and a case of 2.5 reeds.

“That bag should have a beginners book in it, and information about a jwpepper account, although I recommend checking musescore before buying anything.” Eun interrupts Tooru’s staring.

“Uhhhh….okay?” Tooru scrunches together his eyebrows and tugs his shoulders a bit closer to him. His confused tic that only his parents, sister, or Hajime would recognise.

Eun laughs and reaches for her closed pc, sitting in the center of the table, “They’re websites with sheet music.” 

And so began Tooru’s plans for the rest of his leave, playing clarinet all day for two weeks.

 

\---

 

There is a general hum of chatter as Tooru opens the door to the band room for the first time, as it’s mostly already full. He’s slightly hunched over so that he’s not fully in the room, but rather leaning over the threshold. He’s been back at school for about three weeks already, and has taken that time to catch up on his class and get his gym elective switched to 

Tooru knows that there are roughly 30 kids already in the class, so it’s doubtful that they all know each other. But there are only 6 clarinets aside from him, so he’ll definitely be singled out as new among his section.

Straightening up, something he is only physically capable of, Tooru takes his first step into the band room.

Once inside, Tooru notices a slight atmosphere change. It’s kind, crazy, and serious all at once. It reminds him of practice games when he has the team split to play against their own. 

Tooru makes his way down the terraced floor, twisting around stands and squeezing behind chairs until he reaches the rest of the clarinets. Luckily, he hasn’t seen any of his fangirls in this class, but he grows nervous when the clarinet sitting next to the empty chair on the end switches chairs with the one next to her.

He sits down in the spot by the empty clarinet, feeling as though his atoms are buzzing with his anxiety. 

“Hey,” the other clarinet says as he sticks his reed in his mouth.

They continue without stopping, having noticed the wood in his mouth, “You’re new so you probably don’t have the warm-up book so if you want we can share mine? I play clarinet 2 I hope that’s okay.”

Tooru takes the reed out of his mouth and begins affixing it to his mouthpiece, making sure it’s slid far enough up.

He turns to the person as he turns the screws on his ligature, “That’d be great thank you! What is your name?”

They smile, they have pale green eyes, and silver hair threaded with blue and green that is cut shoulder length on one side and is down to their waist on the other, they have dark purple, almost black rimmed glasses and they’re wearing a [ band shirt ](http://rlv.zcache.com/band_geek_t_shirt-rfc1d4e7f475b40eba84b7bbf7a5878c5_jyr6q_324.jpg%20) and blue jeans. “Sora, meaning sky.”

“A beautiful name,” Tooru says with a smile, “What are we playing?”

“We’re actually doing review songs for these last few months of school, and requests. So the first thing we’re playing is  [ Hercules and the Hydra. ](https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10360971) ” They flip the curtain of hair down to their waist behind their shoulder, where half of it immediately falls back in front of them and they huff a bit as Tooru fights the urge to laugh and instead hums.

“I’ve never heard of that before, I look forward to playing it!”

The band director at that moment calls out, “Alright! Page 32 numbers one through three and five! Call and response. Aoi you start us off!”

A trumpet behind him lifts her horn and plays. Sora hurries to open their book to the right page, and so began his first day of band.


	2. The Trip to a made-up place pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of actual events

_ Festival- noun-  _ _ an organized series of concerts, plays, or movies, typically one held annually in the same place. _

Tooru is excited.

There’s no other way to put it, really. There’s a field trip to a music festival today. The schedule goes something like this: Get up, grab music, instrument, food, phone and charger, drive to school, and get on the bus. From there the bus will take them up to Canyon City High School and they’ll watch the orchestra play, then they’ll play. Then pizza will be provided. And then they’ll get back on the bus to take them up to the canyon.

Tooru wakes up at six am, showers, throws on his band polo (a navy polo shirt with the Seijoh Band logo on it) and khaki pants, and packs a bag with his music, a water bottle, his phone charger, his nook, and his clarinet.

As he sets his phone in his pocket, it starts buzzing. It’s Sora. As the two clarinets who weren’t really friends with the others, they had ended up talking a lot. Tooru found Sora a calming presence, if somewhat crazy, as all clarinets are. Although not someone he had heard a lot about, Sora seemed to have a wide variety of acquaintances and even know a bit about everyone. They actually reminded Tooru a lot of Issei and Takahiro, just as mischievous with Issei’s chill and Takahiro’s attitude toward strangers with a killer dab and a quick wit. The two are now close friends, . Some had already thought they were dating but Sora had been quick to dispel the rumors with a laugh and a, “ _ Him?  _ Dating  _ me? _ That’s ridiculous!” Sora had even introduced him to her best friend/brother from another mother, Makoto. Makoto seems to approve of Tooru, and not mind being called Koto-chan. And they get along well with Hajime, having been invited over to study while he was there.

It was during one such study session when the three of them came out to each other.

 Ir wasn’t really anything special.

Sora was lying on their bed on their stomach, knees bent and stockinged feet dangling in the air above them, lazily kicking as they typed up an essay. Hajime was sitting at the desk twiddling his pencil over math homework. And Tooru was sitting on the floor surrounded by two textbooks, a stack of flashcards, and a water bottle.

“I hate that she makes us use two different textbooks! Why couldn’t she have just found one that had all the information?!” Tooru ranted, “It’s stupid!”

Sora and Hajime grunt their approval.

“And now you straight up leave me to my ranting.” Tooru mutters, “Great.”

“The only straight I am’s a straight-up bitch.” Sora immediately responds.

Hajime turns in his chair and Tooru looks up at the bed.

Tooru doesn’t even think Sora realized she said it, as they haven’t looked up, continuing to work on their essay. The clacking of keys slowly grind to a stop as Sora looks back up at them, “Sorry, knee-jerk reaction.” Looking as Tooru and Hajime continue the silence, Sora gasps, “Ohhhh I haven’t come out to you guys yet have I?”

Tooru and Hajime mutedly shake their heads that  _ No wtf you have not _ . 

Sora gives a half hearted smile, “Half of my jokes are straight jokes so I thought I had… Welp, I’m aro. Ace, too. Panpoly alterous”

The silence turns pensive as the other two dwell on this information.

“I’m gay.” comes Hajime’s voice after a moment, and the two turn to him.

He’s leaning back in his chair, staring at his pencil as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“I’m pan, I think.”  Tooru finally speaks up, slower than he usually speaks.

“Cool.” Sora says.

And that’s that.

The brightness of Tooru’s phone as the messenger app opens pulls him from his thoughts.

 

**Sora Gaochiru**

You excited for today?! ヽ༼◕ل͜◕༽ﾉ

 

**Tooru Oikawa**

Yep! Can’t wait ─=≡Σ((( つ◕ل͜◕)つ

 

Tooru triple-checks that he has all the pieces and slings the bag over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

He had intended to look cool, but really he put too much power into swinging the bag and overbalances, being forced to side step a few times into the hallway. He reaches up to push up his glasses to hide his embarrassment, only to poke his eyes as he’s wearing contacts.

Eun snorts amusedly, looking up the stairs as Hajime ducks into the kitchen, laughing. 

Huffing, Tooru turns up his nose and steps too far down the stair, jolting. 

Hajime’s laughter from the kitchen grows louder and Tooru’s heart clutches in his chest. 

“Okay, we get it, I’m a train wreck. Can we go now?” Tooru is so close to pleading, just wanting to be gone already, to where only the beat makes his feet move and only his breath controls how he sounds. 

“I’m driving you to school today Oikawa.” Hajime calls from the kitchen, smile evident in his voice.

“Yay~ Thank you Iwa-chan!” Tooru chimes, sauntering down the stairs to drape himself over Hajime’s back.

“Oi! Crappykawa get off! We have to go!”

Tooru giggles, enjoying the contact while he can. Wishing it weren’t simply platonic, wishing, imagining that Hajime would turn and rest his hands on Tooru’s hips and peck him on the lips in apology for displacing him. 

But this is real life, and Tooru’s wishes mean nothing, so Hajime instead just turns around and scowls at how close that puts their faces, breaths intermingling between them. And Tooru takes a step back with a flirty grin pretending, just pretending, that his heart isn’t aching.

The drive to school is over in five minutes, filled with gentle bickering and hidden meanings that both of them are too scared to unpack. 

Once at the school, Tooru turns to Hajime to say a teasing goodbye, but Hajime blindsides him with a genuine, “Good luck. Have fun, okay?” and Hajime avoid his gaze. Which Tooru is glad for because he can feel his eyes watering, can sense almost as well as he could touch, the space there where Hajime would say, “I love you.” 

Or maybe he did say it, behind other words that form a door Tooru refuses to open out of fear of rejection.

Either way, Tooru almost grabs Hajime’s arm, hand hovering over it as he says his “Thank you.” Eyes locking on Hajime’s soft ones, both slightly widening at the affection found there.

The spell, the delicate moment woven between them is broken by a gentle knocking on Tooru’s window. 

Sora smiles at Hajime as Tooru steps out of the car with his small bag in tow, “Thanks for driving him Haji-chan!”

Tooru makes his confused face, smile plastered on.  _ Wow I’m petty _ flashes through his head at how two of his closest friends managed to make him jealous that easily. “Haji-chan?”

“Well I can’t call either of you by your last names when I don’t know which of yours the other will take,” Sora ignores their flushed faces and spluttering as they continue on, “And I can’t just call you by your first names, because that’s too personal. So,” they shrug, trailing off with an amused glint in their eye. “Let’s go Too-chan. Have a good day at school Haji-chan!” 

They flounce towards the buses, dragging Tooru behind them by the wrist. 

The buses are the large kind with tv screens, soft seats, and a large storage space on the underside. 

The band director directs them to the first bus, as orchestra is taking the first. 

People with larger instruments, such as trombone and bass clarinet, put them in the storage space underneath. The seven flutes, only two of them from first period like Tooru’s in, and the clarinets, only 8 of them, one from second period who doubles on tenor sax but is just playing clarinet at this event (who is one of Sora’s closer friends), all take their instruments up the curled wooden stairs onto the bus. The first three rows are reserved for the teachers and instructors. The rows, however, are staggered. So although Tooru and Sora end up on the right directly behind teachers, to their left there are kids a row up with their tray tables completely covered. Sora pokes his arm and nods to the tray, “I bet the water bottles drop first turn.” they half-whisper and Tooru giggles.

After they get adjusted and settled in (neither of them putting anything on their trays), the band director’s head pops up from the mini stairwell. Another councilor appears after him and they do a quick roll call and then they’re off.

True to Sora’s word, everyone who had a waterbottle and a bag of snacks on their tray tables loses their water bottle around the first corner and Tooru and Sora silently hide their laughs behind matching poker faces.

The ride is nothing to write home about. Sora falls asleep a few minutes in. Tooru’s not surprised, he heard that the highest honours classes have two giant projects and doubts that Sora has slept recently. Sora’s head lolls over to rest on his shoulder and Tooru shifts to let them be comfortable, reminded of all the times Hajime had fallen asleep on his shoulder. It only takes a few more minutes for Tooru to nod off as well.

Tooru wakes up to the flash of a camera as the bus rolls to a stop at a traffic crossing.

Tooru’s phone is dropped back into his lap by the guy in the row next to them, someone from the trombone section, Tooru vaguely remembers. “You and your girlfriend are cute,” he says as Tooru looks at the photo of his head atop Sora’s, who is on his shoulder. 

He wavers about saying, ‘We’re not dating, and if we were they’d be my datemate, not girlfriend,’ ultimately decides that that’s too long, and settles on, “They’re just my friend.”

The guy nods and mutters an apology with a shrug, “Still cute.” and turns back to his DS.

Tooru unlocks his phone and sends the picture to Hajime.

 

**Tooru Oikawa**

We’re so bored we fell asleep! How’s school?

 

**Hajime Iwaizumi**

Fine. We’re in break atm and I got you the hw.

 

**Tooru Oikawa**

Thanks Iwa-chan! I can always count on you~

 

**Hajime Iwaizumi**

Crappykawa you know that

 

Tooru can feel his ears go red. His heart rate picks up the slightest bit and for a second it’s as though his entire life freezes with the amazing anchor in his life that is Hajime Iwaizumi.

The pounding of his heart must have woken Sora, because they sit up and shoot him a concerned expression before spotting the phone in his hand and nodding in understanding.

**Tooru Oikawa**

Ah the ever reliable Iwa-chan!!!

 

Thank you.

 

**Hajime Iwaizumi**

Anytime. Ah gtg to history class. Bye.

 

**Tooru Oikawa**

Good luck! Bye~

 

Tooru sighs, feeling a bit lonely. The bus stops again and Tooru looks out of the window. And there, sitting inconspicuously, is a weed store.

The next row over and in front of them, the boy whose water bottle was first to go called out to the band director.

“Hey can we stop so I can go to the bathroom there?” the boy points directly to the store.

No one but the first two rows containing kids and of course the adult rows seem to have heard, and the band director calmly responds, “Not now. Maybe on the way back when everyone’s phones are out of battery.” 

Sora snickers and shakes their head slightly next to him.

“Hey!” the director calls out, garnering the attention of most of the bus, “Who here brought phone chargers?”

About 70% of the kids raised their hands and the band director shook his head at the boy, “Sorry, no dice.”

Sora mimes an exaggerated ‘darn it’ snap and Tooru smothers his laughter with a hand.

Tooru pulls out his nook and spends the rest of the time reading, and Sora beside him puts in one earbud and pulls out their phone to take advantage of the free wifi and watch netflix.

Eventually a brick building appears to the right and people start whispering behind them about whether or not that’s the high school.

Someone definitively says that it’s the middle school and the metal letters reading “Canyon City Middle School” soon roll into view.

Then the bus turns the corner and the high school, looking like a castle, appears.

They pull up in front of the school and the director gets up, turning on the microphone that is connected to the speakers throughout the bus. 

“Everyone sit down, we’re letting the orchestra bus get off first.”

Everyone silently takes their seats once more, and Tooru turns to the window. 

Two of the orchestra kids are rolling around on the slight incline in front of the high school, and the director rolls his eyes and heads out to scold them as they take turns jumping over the other as they roll down the hill.

With that source of entertainment over and the orchestra bus unloaded, Tooru and Sora pull out their pieces and their clarinets and disembark from the bus.

When they enter there’s a woman who shushes them, and you can hear the hiss of shushing ahead, so they join in as the line curves into a large gym, about the same size as the Sendai City gym where the tournaments are held. There’s enough room for two parallel volleyball courts, and there are slide out bleachers under another level of permanent bleachers. The entire floor is covered in mesh sheet with sections laid out in duct tape.

Sora’s nonplussed expression completely contradicts their under-their-breath whistle. 

“Didn’t you come here last year?” Tooru asks them, and they shake their head.

“Last year booking a spot was put off until testing times were decided, and by then the festival was full.” Sora explains, glancing around once more before turning to the band director just as he begins to speak.

“Everyone drop your stuff and we’ll go listen to the orchestra play!”

Sora and Tooru set their cases on top of their music at the sheet section that reads “AJHS” and walk over to the throng of other Aoba Johsai students. 

From there they head out the hallway past the line of students coming in and to the right, into an auditorium. 

They sit and Tooru checks his surroundings. To their left is a band wearing white shirts, black pants, and gold things buckled around their waist.

A band wearing that identical uniform takes the stage, and everyone falls silent as they are announced as Fukurodani 2nd Year Symphonic Band 1, playing one song(that I can’t remember) and  [ Eureka ](https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10071241) . 

As soon as they begin Eureka Sora, and most of the Seijoh band, takes a sharp inhale.

As they applaud at the end, Sora explains that the beginning had sounded eerily like the opening to a song the had played earlier that year,  [ Russian Christmas Music ](https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10094737) .

When they leave the stage, the band besides them stands and files out of the room, Appearing not soon after on the stage. Confused, Sora whispers, “This must be their second band, right? I mean they did announce that the first was Band 1.”

Indeed, they are announced as Fukurodani Symphonic Band 2 and they play.

Afterwards the Aoba Johsai band claps and the Aoba Johsai orchestra takes the stage.

They play  [ Allegro In D ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfo0xgHoo5k) and  [ Many Miles Away Across the Sea ](https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10051331) and file out through the side door.

Then the Seijoh band is ushered back into the gym and they unpack their instruments as fast as they can, the director scolds a trumpet for playing, and then they are led out of the gym directly right and then right again into the Canyon City Band Room. The room is huge, with wire racks rimming it instead of cabinets, and a convoluted ceiling like at Aoba Johsai to better conduct sound.

There’s a woman already in their, and Sora waves to her, whispering to Tooru, “That’s Hiroshi-san, she was an assistant teacher for a while when we first got these pieces.”

The band director calls, “If you remember where you sat for the last assembly where we played with orchestra please sit there! If not, do your best guess!”

Sora weaves their way through chairs and stands to the first row, talking with some trumpets about the order. 

Tooru takes his usual seat besides Sora and pulls the pieces out in order on the stand in front of him.

“Alrighty,” the band director begins and everyone falls silent, “Pull out your pieces and let’s show Hiroshi-san how fast and well we can do this!” 

They run through the pieces quickly and then are told to file out by row, standing and going in a line between the chairs and stands.

As they’re in the first row, they’re first to file out but the two at the end to Sora’s right walk right and around the stands and podium while everyone gasps in mock-offence. The two clarinets shrug and rejoin the line behind Sora as everyone else files out properly. 

They’re lead through hallways to what Tooru must guess is the stage entrance to the auditorium, passing whispering students on the way.

The world gets darker as they go down wooden stairs to a floor where so far  _ everyone’s  _ shoes have squeaked. 

And then they reach the area behind the stage, as the red velvet curtains reveal. They stand in the wings, waiting.

One clarinet, one of the same ones who had gone around the podium, steps out of line after a few moments of waiting to peer around the curtain, afterwhich they scoff. 

“It’s just the orchestra out there.” she says.

“What?” Sora asks, voice almost a laugh of incredulity. 

They step out of line as well, just for a peek.

They return shaking their head, “Everyone out there has already heard us play.” 

Tooru shakes his head as well, “You’re kidding me.”

They laugh quietly and don’t respond.

Indeed, Tooru finds when they’re lead out, there’s only the orchestra left.

They go through  [ Down By the Salley Gardens ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9z-K3yxu9lQ) and  [ Lost Lady Found ](https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10281832) fairly well, but in the last few measures of [ Praeludium and Dance ](https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10041739) there’s a part where only the clarinets sustain a measure.

Tooru runs out of breath, as does Sora and all but one of the remaining clarinets, who just forgets to play. It’s the same who had peaked out the curtain and gone around. 

Everyone laughs about it, and Sora points out that everyone there has already heard them play it well. Then they file off stage and over to the gym once again to pack up their instruments.


End file.
